The Abomination
by bi-princessoftheark
Summary: What would happen if someone was with Sam and Dean from the very beginning? Someone not quite... human? How would events change? (I know this has been used a lot, but this is just a trial run. Please review to let me know if I should continue the story.)
1. Sam, Dean, and the Disorganized Trunk

**Author's Note: So hey... this is my first story on this site and I'm honestly terrified to death. Um... I had this idea. You'll presumably read about it below. I might continue with it, depending on whether people like it or not. And I will probably update intermittently, due to the school year sort of almost coming to a close. Um... I don't own any of the story lines, characters, or actors (but I wish). Allons-y!**

"Are you absolutely positive that this is a good idea?" I question as I jimmy the lock to the apartment.

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?" I swing the door open, and turn around. Dean is standing there, hands in his pockets, acting innocent.

"Maybe because you haven't talked to him in two years, he hates your father, oh, and, he might try to kill me? Remember what happened with Bobby?"

"Yeah, but Bobby didn't cause serious damage," I roll my eyes as he continues. "And besides, Sammy's cool. He'll understand." I step aside to let him enter the building, and begin running down the stairs. "Where're you going?"

"To the car! I'll wait."

"Fine! Just don't hurt my baby."

I spin around, put my hands on my hips, and say, "I wouldn't dream of it." I quickly run

down the rest of the stairs before Dean tries to catch up. Those damn Winchesters can work out their family problems without me.

As I reach the familiar black car, I run my hand along the front. I love the Impala, I do, but I miss my motorcycle. I even placed silver embellishments on her, which is probably how she ended up getting totaled. A while back, there was a run in with a werewolf, and I was out of knives and bullets, so I rammed her into the wolf, saving Dean's ass. I sit on the cool leather and close my eyes. Sleeping doesn't come often, and most of the time monsters visit me in my sleep, so I'll take what I can get.

I'm just about to fall asleep when I hear voices approaching the car. I sit down abruptly, squeezing myself into the smallest shape possible so as not to be seen by Sam. It's not that I don't trust him, it's just that… I don't know him well enough to trust him.

Dean and Sam sound like they're having an argument. "Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it." There's a small pause in the conversation before Dean continues speaking. "I can't do this alone." Well, then, what am I? A freak you found on the side of the road? Actually…

"Yes you can." A voice that I'm currently assuming is Sam's travels to my ears. It's different than Dean's voice, almost innocent, naive.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to." I decide that now would be a perfect time for me to introduce myself, so I sit up, and open the passenger door quickly, making Dean and Sam look over in my direction. "There she is!"

"Oh, shut up Dean," I look over at Sam, who is staring at me with a bewildered expression on his face. "Hey Sammy. Dean's told me a lot about you. My name's Skyla, I hunt with John and Dean" I hold out my hand so he can shake it, but he just looks at me like I'm crazy. "Um… this is normally the part where we shake hands."

"Oh! Yeah. Hi. I'm Sam." Startled, he lunges for my hand, and it takes all of my willpower not to throw him over my shoulder and beat his ass. Mentally, I know he's a friend, but the with the hunter mentality and my background, anyone lunges for me, they're usually trying to kill me.

After shaking hands with Sam, which for the record was extremely awkward, I turn to Dean. "So, are you going to show him what we got?"

"Yeah." He turns to the trunk and pops it open, revealing the arsenal we have stored under the spare-tire compartment. Grabbing a shotgun, he props up the trunk and starts digging through it. "All right, let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?"

"I swear, one of these days I'm going to organize that entire thing." I mutter. Dean flips me off while searching, prompting Sam to snicker, before asking a question he had obviously been contemplating.

"So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?"

Dean pauses his fruitless searching for a minute and replies, "I - Uh, I mean we were," he rephrases after seeing my glare, "We were working our own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans."

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?"

"Oi! I was there!" "I'm twenty-six, dude." Dean and I reply at the same time.

"Wait," Sam turns to me, still confused. "Who are you again?" I'm about to respond when Dean stand up and pulls some papers out of the folder we had compiled.

"All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy," he hands one of the papers to Sam. "They found his care, but he vanished. Completely MIA." Sam reads the paper, which is the newspaper article I printed, and looks up.

"So maybe he was kidnapped." I snort. I couldn't help it. Kidnapped? Would John go investigate this if it was a simple kidnapping? I mean, I know Dean said Sam was out of the game, but still.

"Yeah. Well here's another one in April." Dean tosses another article to Sam, and then continues as I start listing dates.

"Another in December, '04, '03, '98, '92, ten of them over the past twenty years." I finish, before grabbing the articles back and reorganizing them by order of date. I put them back in the folder as Dean finishes.

"All men, all same five-mile stretch of road." He stops to pull the tape recorder out of the trunk. "It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough. Then I get this voicemail yesterday." He clicks play just as I stick the folder in the right corner of the arsenal. There's no way I'm letting the trunk get disorganized ever again.

"Dean, Sky… something big is starting to happen… I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may… Be very careful guys. We're all in danger." Dean presses stop, and I turn to lean against the side of the Impala.

Sam breaks the silence, saying "You know there's EVP on that?" I roll my eyes. No, Sam, we hadn't thought of that! Thank God we consulted Mr. I-Got-Into-Stanford-I'm-Still-Smarter-Than-You. Dean, on the other hand, looks almost proud.

"Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Sam shakes his head in response, so Dean continues. "All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got," Before he presses play, I cough rather loudly. "Okay fine. Sky did everything." I nod, satisfied, and he hits play.

"I can never go home…" A woman's voice plays over the tape. Dean presses stop, and turns to Sam almost expectantly.

"Never go home." Dean drops the recorder haphazardly in the trunk to my extreme displeasure, and closes it.

"You know, in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing." Sam looks away and sighs. I slowly creep back for the passenger door. I hate family situations, and knowing the Winchesters, I don't want to be in the general vicinity when a family gathering occurs.

Sam looks back at Dean and replies. "All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him," Dean nods, but Sam continues speaking. "But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here." He turns to go back to the apartment, but stops when I speak up.

"What's first thing Monday?" It might not be any of my business, but a) I'm genuinely curious and b) having a time limit on hunts sucks, so if he can skip whatever the hell he has on Monday, that would be great.

"I have this… I have an interview."

"What, a job interview? Skip it." Dean says.

Sam looks exasperated as he elaborates. "It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate."

"Law school?" Dean turns to me and smirks, while I attempt to cover my smile with my hands.

"So we got a deal or not?" With that, Sam turns and heads to his apartment. Dean and I wait until he's gone before speaking.

"Told you! I told you he'd come!" Dean pumps the air with his fist.

"Yeah, until Monday. Then he's gone. Look," I face Dean. "Can we not tell him about… you know… my thing?" I sweep my hand up and down my body. "It's just, if he's not gonna be here long, then there's really no point in telling more people than we already have."

"Yeah sure. No problem. But if he stays…"

I sigh. "I know, I know. We tell him." I open the passenger door to the Impala and grab my leather jacket. "I'm gonna catch up on some sleep, okay?" I close the passenger door and crawl into the backseat. "So, don't argue and just blast Metallica." At Dean's nod, I close the back door, shape my jacket into a pillow, and stretch out in the back. It's gonna be a long ride. I close my eyes, and let the blissful darkness consume me.


	2. On the Road and Other Questions

I wake up about halfway to Jericho. Dean is, as usual, drumming his fingers to the beat of the song on the wheel. Sam appears to be going over some papers. I look closer and I see the file. I guess he pulled it out before we left. I lean forward and say, "So guys, what'd I miss?"

"Jesus Christ!" Sam lurches forward in his seat, spilling papers on the floor and dashboard.

"Nope, just me. Again, anything revelations I missed while catching up on my many hours of missed sleep?"

"Nothing Sky. Just Sam complaining about the music." Dean replies, smirking at Sam's reaction to my question. Sam glares at him while picking up the papers.

"Hey, you actually never answered my question. Who are you? How do you know Dean and my dad? How old are you? Why are you hunting? Where is your family? How did-" Dean interrupts Sam's sudden barrage of questions by hitting him on the arm.

"Dude, one at a time. She will answer everything, but only if she can understand what you're saying."

"Well, not everything. A girl's gotta have some secrets." I lean forward, so much so that I'm almost in the front seat with the boys. "Okay. My name is Skyla Blake. I started hunting with Dean and John around 2-ish years ago. I started hunting because… it sorta kinda runs in the family in a weird way. My family is dead. And…" I debate telling him my secret, but I decide not to freak him out, and frankly, I'm not up to explaining my freakiness right now. "I'm 17 years old."

"WHAT?! 17? You hunted with Dean when you were 15? What the hell!" Sam is apparently very shocked by this revelation, even though Dean has informed me that they started hunting at around 14.

"Oh, come on Sammy. It's not that big of a deal. Besides, she's good." Dean says, turning to look at Sam instead of, oh I don't know, focusing on the road.

"Dean. Road." I say. I'm not in the mood to die again. It sucks.

"On it." He fake salutes, and turns back to the road.

"Wait, so-" Sam tries to start a conversation again, but I hold up a hand to silence him.

"Sorry, Sammy. You have used up your 5 questions for today. No more," I gesture with my hand for him to hand me the folder. "Pass me the files, would you? I wanna look through some things again," as he passes the folder back to me, I glance at him and notice his tired eyes. Softening my tone, I continue, "Why don't you catch up on some sleep? We're almost to Jericho. I'll wake you up so you can help me stop Dean from doing something stupid." He smiles at that and nods, curling toward the window.

"Rude." Dean says, after he is sure Sam is sleeping.

"Whatever." I say. "I'm going to comb through these, see if we missed anything."

"Nerd."

"Whore." After our usual exchange of insults, the car lapses into silence with Sam's steady breathing providing a nice background noise. I focus my attention on the papers in my hand and read through them again. Only a couple more hours, and then the real work begins. Only a couple more hours and then we find John. Only a couple more hours…


	3. Pissing off the Local Law Enforcement

**OMG thank you so much for the reviews. I have a question though: should i continue with the several chapters per episode format, condense the episodes all into one chapter, or skip ahead several episodes and only focus on the major episodes that play into the plot (even though that is the majority of the episodes)? Anyway: here is the next chapter!**

Dean eventually pulled up to a gas station fairly early in the morning. I must have gone over the file a thousand times, but I still couldn't put together what creature was killing these men. Hell, I couldn't even find a connection between them except they were all men, they were all somewhat from the same town, and that they all disappeared on that certain stretch of highway. This wasn't going to be easy.

I'm snapped out of my internal monologue by Dean's voice. "Hey kiddo, you want anything?" I look up to meet Dean's eyes in the mirror.

"Don't call me kiddo," he rolls his eyes. "And yes, I would." I shove the files onto the other seat, and climb out of the car. Sam was just waking in the front seat. I walk into the store and start searching for one of the only things that makes me happy; Red Bull. I essentially live on Red Bull. Dean says I have a problem, but how could Red Bull ever be a problem?

I find a can just as Dean walks into the tiny shop. He sighs the minute he sees what I'm practically cradling in my arms, but nods, knowing he can't do anything to stop me. "Any other form of caffeine or sugar you want?" I straighten up at his words, and start searching for Nerds. It may be morning, but it's never too early for candy. Dean grabs some beef jerky and sodas, and we head for the counter.

"That'll be $17.56." The store clerk rings up our breakfast. Dean swipes "his" card, and I gather my precious food in my arms. As I exit, I see Sam rifling through a box of tapes. Oh god. He's going to complain about the music. This will be fun to watch. I nod at Sam as I pour some Nerds in my mouth and chase them down with Red Bull. I sit in the back seat, stretching out until my back is resting against the opposite car door and my feet are near the other door.

"Hey!" I look out the back window to see Dean holding up the sodas and other junk food. "You want breakfast?" I see Sam visibly cringe before responding.

"No thanks," Dean shrugs and places the food on the roof of the Impala. "So how'd you pay for that stuff? You and Dad still running credit card scams?" What does he think we're doing? I work as a part-time barista at a cafe and Dean is a friggin' mechanic while John works as a middle school gym teacher? Did Sam get stupider by going to college?

Dean, however, takes the question more seriously than I do. "Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean puts the nozzle back on the pump before continuing. "Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards." I snort and chug more Red Bull. God this stuff is good.

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?" Sam closes the door and settles the box on his legs.

"Uh, Burt Aframian," Dean gets in the car and sets his inferior food choices down. "And his kids Hector and Maria. Scored three cards out of the deal." He closes the door.

"That sounds about right," Sam says, although I see him glance back at me in the mirror. Clearly, he has unresolved trust issues. Then again, so do I. "I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

"Why?" Dean sounds incredulous.

I pick up the reigns on Sam's argument. "Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two; Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? Dean, you know I love you and Metallica, but it's basically the greatest hits of mullet rock." Dean grabs a tape from Sam.

"Well fine. You guys suck," he pops the tape into the player. "And remember, house rules. Driver picks the music-" I say the last part with him; he's told me this a lot. "Shotgun shuts his cakehole." Dean smiles at me, despite my betrayal. "Besides, Sammy, at least it's good." Dean starts the engine.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year old." Sam says, almost pouting. I could see why Dean still called him Sammy. AC/DC's 'Back in Black' starts playing and I smile. I really love this song. "It's Sam, okay?"

Dean, with that infuriating smirk, turns the music up so it's almost shaking the car. "Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud." With that, the conversation ends, and as he pulls out of the station, I can't but to think that maybe hunting is better with both brothers. At least it's fun to watch them bicker at each other.

* * *

The music is still blasting when we drive past a sign that says 'JERICHO 7'. Sam has since started calling hospitals and morgues, trying to see if there was a John Doe admitted matching John's description. Sam finally says "Thank you." and closes his phone. He then turns to Dean. "All right. So, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue. So that's something, I guess." Dean nods, then looks back at the road. We're approaching a bridge, and there appears to be cop cars and officers around it. I lean forward to get a better view.

"Check it out." Dean says. Sam, like me, leans forward. Dean pulls over, and after a period of silence, he turns off the engine. Then he leans over and opens the glove compartment, pulling out the box of fake IDs we use on various cases. That box, like the trunk, is so disorganized it almost hurts to look at. He picks one out, tosses one back to me, and grins at Sam, who is simply staring. "Let's go." Dean and I get out, with Sam, finally realizing what just occurred, steps out too.

As we walk to the taped off area, a man that appears to be the deputy, yells down to some men in suits who were poking around the river. "You guys find anything?" The answering shout of "No! Nothing!" seems to dishearten the deputy turns back to the car. A man, who is looking inside the car, says "No sign of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless. It's almost too clean." I square my shoulders, and start to walk like I belong there, as do Dean and Sam.

The men continue talking, when Dean interjects. "You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" One of the deputies looks at Dean.

"And who are you?" Dean grins, and flashes his badge. "Federal marshals." The deputy looks skeptical, especially when looking at my youthful figure.

"You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you?" Dean laughs. "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you." Feeling bad for the deputy, I reply, "I'm a probationary agent." The deputy nods, but still looks disbelieving. Dean, ignoring the deputy's growing distrust, walks over to the car.

"You did have another just like this, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that." I nod, ignoring the deputy. We already know this, of course, but I still have to stay in character. I walk up to the car and look in, just like the other deputy. He's right. It is too clean. And yet, I can sense that the kid's death was anything but.

"So, this victim, you knew him?" Sam questions. Not exactly a mystery-cracking question, in fact, I don't even see how it's pertinent, but I decide to cut the new/old guy some slack. He really has been out of the game for too long.

The deputy nods, then speaks. "Town like this, everybody knows everybody." Ugh. Small towns. Those are my nightmares, not the things we hunt. Everybody knowing my secret… no thanks. Meanwhile, Dean is still circling the car. For someone who hates acting and theater, he really gets into character.

"Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?" Now, that is a good question. Good job Dean.

"No. Not so far as we can tell." I'm really getting the feeling that the deputy doesn't like us. Or Dean. Probably just Dean.

"So what's the theory?" Sam asks, walking over to Dean. How is this question gonna help? We're hunting something supernatural, not something like a serial killer. Get your head out of the law textbooks and think like a hunter.

"Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?" Oh god. How did this deputy even become a deputy. Those are the two worst theories anyone could have come up with.

Dean, as ever, voices his opinion. "Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." I can't help it. I snort as soon as Dean says the last word. That was the funniest thing I've heard this week. Sam, however, has clearly heard funnier, as he stomps on Dean's foot, causing him to jump.

"Thank you for your time." Sam turns back to the car, with Dean following. "Gentlemen." I stare at them for a while, before remembering that I'm supposed to go with them. I jog up to them just as Dean smacks Sam on the head. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Why'd you have to step on my foot?"

"Why do you have to talk to the police like that?" Sam retorts.

"Why are you two such children in public?" I grumble, under my breath. Or not under my breath, as they both turn to look at me. "What? It's true!"

Dean looks at us, and moves in front of Sam, forcing Sam to stop walking. I stop too, mainly because I have a feeling Dean is about to pull on his big boy pants and say something smart. Those moments are few and I really like witnessing them. Of course, if you ask him, he is always brilliant. "Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves."

I agree, and am about to voice my own opinion, when Sam clears his throat and looks over Dean's shoulder. I follow his line of sight, and see a Sheriff and what appears to be two FBI agents. Shit. The sheriff approaches us.

"Can I help you boys?" I cough. "Excuse me, m'am. Didn't see you there." Didn't see me there? I was standing right next to Sam… oh. More like I'm standing behind him. Of course he didn't see me. Sam is friggin' huge!

"No, sir, we were just leaving." I say, not wanting Dean to open his mouth and get us in any more trouble with law enforcement than we might already be. However, it seems by efforts were pointless, for as the FBI agents pass Dean, he nods at each of them and says "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully."

Exasperated, I push past the boys and head for the car. We need to get more information, as this venture gleaned no helpful information, other than the fact the when the Winchester brothers get together, they regress to a toddler-like state regarding each other. Joy. I am now babysitting two grown men.


	4. The Ghostly Bitch

**So sorry I haven't updated in a while! I had April Break, a funeral, and then a shit ton of finals. But now it's summer, so I'll try to be better about the updates, I promise. Anyway, here is Chapter 4!**

We drive in silence, Sam having claimed the passenger seat again. I will have to talk to him about that. The passenger seat is mine. Besides, he's far too big to fit. And he doesn't have mad music skills like me.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts when Dean parks the car. We're now on a street in the town. I notice a young woman tacking up posters as I step out of the car. Dean noticed too. He hits Sam, who is still trying to watch me while being subtle. He's not. "I'll bet you that her."

Sam, startled, just responds "Yeah." I sigh, and start walking to her. Dean and Sam follow.

"Hey, you must be Amy." I say sympathetically. Not that I'm all that sympathetic. It's just that I'm trying to get her to trust me. Amy nods, then spots Dean and Sam behind me. I nestle into Dean's side, and poke him so he knows to continue.

"Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles and this," he slightly nudges me, and I giggle to act the part. "This is my girl. I'm Dean, that's Sammy, and this is Sky."

Amy just says, "He never mentioned you to me" and walks away. We walk after her, Dean attempting to build a bond between them.

"Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto." Amy still looks dubious, so Sam cuts in.

"So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around." He pulls out these puppy dog eyes from out of nowhere, and Amy practically melts. All of a sudden, another girl comes up and puts her hand on Amy's arm.

"Hey, are you okay?" Amy nods in response. Sam, apparently very eager to finish this case, interjects yet again.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" Shortly thereafter, we walked to a diner and located ourselves in a booth, the girls on one side, the boys on the other, and me on a stool I pulled over.

Amy started talking right away. "I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and… he never did."

I decided now would be a good time to interject. "He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" Amy turned to me and shook her head, before responding to the boys.

"No. Nothing I can remember." Damn it. This conversation was going to be pointless. I made the gesture to Dean that we should go, but Sam was apparently not one to give up, and he continued speaking.

"I like your necklace." Seriously? Great detective work Sam! The necklace is the key to why so many men are going missing! Brilliant! Spectacular! I can see Dean thinking somewhere along those lines. I glance at the necklace on her chest anyway. She is holding it. It's a pendant with a pentagram in a circle. She looks down before responding.

"Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents-" she laughs. "-with all this devil stuff." Same laughs too, and Dean and I watch as she opens up to him. Damn him and his unassuming puppy face.

However, nerd in him breaks through. "Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." Wow. Way to sound weird.

Dean attempts to defuse the awkward silence by getting to the point. "Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries." He leans forward. "Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything…" At the last comment, the two girls look at each other. "What is it?" Dean asks.

The other girl speaks up. "Well, it's just… I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk."

Without missing a beat, Sam and Dean both say, at exactly the same friggin' time, "What do they talk about?" Weird. Is that a brother thing? How many pairs of brothers speak the same thing at the same time? Is was a little creepy.

Rachel, however, seems unfazed. "It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago," Now this could be useful. I lean forward, attempting not to look too eager. Sam does the same, while Dean just looks at Sam. "Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever." Now that is definitely useful.

* * *

Shortly after leaving Rachel and whoever her friend was at the diner, the boys and I located the library. We found ourselves gathered around an old computer, looking up old newspapers articles that could connect to the legend, but so far nothing has turned up. Dean is typing in phrases like "Female Murder Hitchhiking" and "Female Murder Centennial Highway", but so far nothing has shown up. Sam, who had up to this point been a silent observer, breaks the silence. "Let me try."

He reaches for the computer, but Dean just smacks his hand. "I got it." There is now no denying the evidence. They are literal toddlers around each other. I get up from my perch on the desk behind them, and shove Dean's chair out of the way, while simultaneously dragging Sam's chair up to the monitor. "Dude!" Dean hits Sam on the shoulder, and tries to hit me while moving closer to the computer. "You're such control freaks." He states, obviously disgruntled at the mutiny.

Sam ignores him and plows forward. "So, angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?"

"Yeah."

I jump in, seeing where Sam is leading with this. "Well, maybe it's not murder." Sam nods, then replaces "Murder" with "Suicide". An article entitled "Suicide on Centennial" shows up. Sam clicks on the link, and starts to read aloud.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps of Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river." I nod, looking at the picture of her.

Dean interjects. "Does it say why she did it?"

"Yeah," I say. "An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back they aren't breathing. Both die. Tough luck."

Dean raises his eyebrows, and we all read the article until he says, "The bridge look familiar to you?"

I look closer. "Yes! That's where the crime scene is." I stand up, almost knocking my chair over. "We have to go back. Right now." I spin around and practically sprint for the door, Dean following right behind me.

"Come on guys! Slow down!" Sam yells from the computer.

* * *

We're walking along the bridge. The sky is black, and the air is cold. I shiver, pulling my leather jacket closer to me. Where could John be? He should be ahead of us, he should have already figured out the case and solved it. Unless… no. He's too good of a hunter to get picked off by a measly ghost.

Dean's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "So this is where Constance took the swan dive."

I snort. "Eloquently put, Dean." He lunges for me, but I dance out of the way.

"So, do you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks, interrupting the fight.

"Probably," I respond. "He's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him." I continue walking along the bridge, prompting Dean and Sam to do the same.

"Okay, so now what?" Sam asks. Oh god. They're gonna get into a sibling fight. I start walking further away. I really don't want to get involved in this. I want to find John, let Sam get back to his mediocre college life, and start hunting again. That, and find my parents. And subsequently kill them. You know, typical teenage things. As soon as I'm far enough away, I sit on the edge of the railing and start to clean my nails with my knife. I glance at Sam and Dean. They're really getting into it. Great.

After a little while, Dean starts walking towards me. "You have a responsibility to-"

"To what?" Sam asks. "To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like," Oh god. Now you've done it. Never bring up Dean's mom in front of him. "And what difference would it make?" Sammy, just stop before you end up with a broken nose. "Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back." Final nail in the coffin.

With barely contained fury on his face, Dean slams Sam back into a pole on the bridge. "Don't talk about her like that." I sigh, and stand up. I start strolling back to the boys, when I see Constance standing on the edge of the bridge.

"Guys." I breathe. I run forward next to them, and pull their gazes away from each other and onto Constance. She just stands there on the edge, staring at us. What is she doing? She steps off the bridge, and we run over to the railing. I look down, but there's nothing. "What the hell?"

"Where'd she go?" Dean, at least, is as confused as I am.

"No clue." All of a sudden, the Impala's engines start up and the headlights come on.

"How-"

"Who's driving your car?" Sam questions while not taking his eyes off the car.

Oh no. Dean pulls the keys out of his pocket and jingles them. Shit. We pissed off Constance the crazy ghost. Spectacular. The car jerks into motion. Double shit.

"Guys? Go," They look at me. "Guys! Killer car coming right at us! Run! Allons-y!" We start running as fast as we can. Unfortunately, the car can go much faster than two humans and a something. I glance back. Okay, that car is way too close for comfort. "Jump!" I yell, and reach for the railing. Sam and Dean quickly follow my lead. I manage to catch the underside of the railing, and I hold on for dear life. Not that it would matter if I died. Nothing can hold me down for long.

I pull myself back up as soon as the car stops, and I hear Sam grunting as he gets back on the bridge. I turn around, and freeze. Where is Dean? Sam stares back at me, and understands instantly.

"Dean? Dean where are you?" He calls out into the once again silent night.

I stare over the railing, clutching it so tight my knuckles turn whiter than that bitch's ghostly dress.

"Dean!"


	5. I Hate the Local Law Enforcement

**Author's Note: I would just like to apologize profusely for my lack of updates. There was summer school (in which I learned absolutely nothing) and a whole lot of procrastination. Whoops. And also this chapter is really short... but only one more until the story really kicks off! Please don't hate me.**

"Dean!" My desperate cry rings out into the cold night. My heartbeat quickens, drowning out Sam's shouts for his brother, until all I can hear is a constant thumping. I scan the river, searching for any sign of Dean.

"What?" I turn my head towards the noise from the riverbank. Dean is crawling out of the water and onto the muddy bank, clearly annoyed. I let out a sigh of relief, and my tight grip on the railing loosens, my hands falling to my sides.

"Hey! Are you alright?" Sam asks.

Dean gives him a thumbs up, then calls up "I'm super." I bark out a laugh, still trying to calm my nerves. As Dean picks himself up and starts walking back to the bridge, I run my hand through my hair. I glance at Sam, assessing his body for any injuries. How the hell did I get so attached to the Winchesters so fast?

* * *

Dean slams the hood of the car and leans on it. "Is Baby okay?" I question, running my hands possessively over the hood. "You're okay, aren't you? What did that mean ghost do to you?"

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a _bitch!_" He yells into the night. I swallow a laugh, and then sit on the hood next to him, Sam leaning on the other side.

"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So where's the job go from here, genius?" Sam says.

"I have no clue, Sam. Aren't you the one who got into Stanford?" I say scathingly. "I guess college didn't teach you much, did it?"

Dean promptly cracks up, practically falling onto Sam, getting mud all over Sam's jeans. Shoving Dean off his body, Sam sniffs. "You smell like a toilet." He says, in an attempt to get Dean to stop laughing. It works.

* * *

We pull into the parking lot of the only motel in town. Dean parks the car, and we all just sit there for a second; Dean and Sam up front, and me in the back. I really need to catch up on sleep. Sighing, I push myself forward and tap the brothers on their shoulders. "Ready?"

Dean turns back to me and smirks. "Always." I playfully swat his arm, mindful that he did just jump off a bridge. Sam opens the passenger door with a creak that interrupts the silence, prompting Dean and I to open our respective doors. Dean led the way to the motel lobby, fishing in his pocket for "his" credit card. Stalking through the doors, he quickly crosses the room and slaps the card on the guest ledger. "One room please." Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sam do a double take. What? Does he assume we wouldn't get one room? That I get a special room all to myself because I'm a girl? Hunters stick together college boy. Not that you would know.

"You guys having a reunion or something?" The clerk asks. I turn my head to Dean. Is John here?

"What do you mean?" Sam asks, right as I was opening my mouth to ask the same question. The clerk nods, handing Dean a room key.

"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month." Dean looks at me, then Sam. We exit the office in silence. As soon as the doors close, I start talking.

"So, go to our room, clean up, relax, or break into John's room?" I ask, attempting a joke to lighten the mood. Sam scoffs, and starts walking towards John's room. Dean just looks after him. "It was a joke, you know that right?"

"Yeah. I know kiddo." He takes off after Sam, leaving me standing outside the office, holding our room key. I sigh. I want to find John, I really do. I stare down at the key. Damn it. I turn around and trudge to the room. I need a shower, I need some sleep, and they need space. I'll check in with them later.

* * *

After a long shower and much needed sleep, I'm bored out of my mind. I exit the room, grabbing a spare I.D. Worst case scenario, the boys still need space, and I go and get a drink. As I'm crossing the parking lot, I run into Dean. "Hey stranger," I say as soon as I'm in earshot. He's about to enter the Impala. "What are you doing?"

"Going to the diner down the street. I'm starving. Wanna come?"

"Sure. What'd you guys find in John's room?" I say, moving over to the passenger door.

"I'll tell you on the way there." I nod, about to open the door when I spot the clerk from before talking to the two deputies from before.

"Call Sam." I say, watching the clerk point at us.

"What? Why would-"

I cut him off. "We've been made. Call Sam. Tell him to get out right now," As the deputies saunter over to us, I force a smile. "Look's like we're taking a trip downtown."

Dean nods, pulls out his cell, and starts whispering to Sam. He hangs up just as the officers approach him. I walk over to Dean, and lean against the hood of the car.

"Problem, officers?" Dean asks, that shit-eating grin planted firmly on his face. I resist the urge to smack him.

"Where's your partner?" One of them says.

"Right here," I say, stepping out in front of Dean.

"No, the other one." He motions to the other deputy to start walking to the motel room Sam is in. Shit. "So," he continues speaking. "Fake US Marshal. Fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?"

"My boobs." "My dick." Dean and I say simultaneously. We look at each other. Did he seriously just say that? Then again, I did say I have a dick. Oh well. We turn back to the officer, grins on our faces. Oh god. The brothers have infected me with the whole 'siblings-in-sync' thing.

The officer slams Dean to the hood of the cop car, the other one handcuffing me. "You have the right to remain silent-". It's official. I hate the Winchesters.


	6. Casper the Ghostly Bitch Bites It

**Author's Note: Ha! Look! I updated within an acceptable frame of time! Go me! As for the Guest who asked when you would find out what Sky's whole thing is, I have an answer: probably in the next chapter, when I cover the wendigo episode, which is when Sam finds out. Anyway, here's the story!**

I'm sitting in a holding room, fiddling with the cuffs on my wrists. Why did I leave my lock pick set in the room? I'm so stupid. Ugh. I lean back in the chair. Even if I could pick them, I'd need a distraction to get out, because there's no way I could get through the window, and there's no other exits in this crummy place. Shit.

I straighten up as soon as the door opens. One of the deputies from before enters the room. "So, Rosie Sanders, right? Not Maria Aframian? And not a probationary agent with the US Marshals?" Well duh, dumbass.

I stay silent as he sits in the chair across the table and fiddles with my ID. "You don't look 23." No shit.

"It's my skin cream. Takes about 5 years off. You should try some." I snark, unable to help myself. The deputy laughs humorlessly.

"You know, your partner? He's spilling everything. Blaming it all on you." Fat chance. However, I contort my features to a look of concern, causing the deputy to smile and continue. "Yeah that's right. How you guys are a cult of satanists, kidnapping young men and killing them somewhere; and how you made them do it." What the hell? Where did they come up with these theories? How did they even become cops?

"Oh yeah, that makes perfect sense. Because when the first murder happened, I wasn't alive yet. Oh no, wait. I'm a satanist, aren't I? Drat, you've figured it out." I smirk and place my palms on the desk. "I stay young by drinking the blood of young men. I force my cronies to acquire young men for me. I've enslaved them. I'm 5,000 years old. Mwahahaha!" Okay, I'll admit. That was a little over the top. But seriously? These guys are so off the mark it's hilarious.

"You know what missy? You stay in here and think about your life choices. I'll be back. We'll continue this conversation later." He gets up and stalks out, slamming the door behind him. Asshole.

* * *

I don't know how much later it is, but I am now officially bored out of my mind. There's only so many times you can count the ceiling tiles. I'm considering faking an injury to get attention, when an officer opens the door. "Will you be alright here? You don't need to go to the bathroom, do you?"

Here's my chance. "Actually, I do. Would you mind?" I say, jingling the cuffs attached to my wrists. He sighs and crosses the threshold into the room, the door closing behind him. He leans down to get the keys to the handcuffs when I make my move. One elbow to the nose, foot to the chest, kick to the head, and he's out. I lean over his body, get the cuffs off, and make my way to the door.

"Shots fired guys, move out!" I hear someone say. So that's why he came in. I wait until I hear the front door slam shut, then I sneak out of the room. And run right into Dean.

"Hey kiddo, I was just looking for you!" He says, steadying me with his hands. I shrug him off and search for a back entrance to the station.

"Don't call me kiddo," I say. I gesture to the now empty police station. "Is this Sam's doing?"

Dean nods. "And look what the police found." He pulls out John's journal from his jacket.

"Shit. Okay, we gotta call Sam, let him know what's going on." I find a fire escape, and Dean and I make quick work of leaving that wretched station.

* * *

Somehow, we found a phone booth without getting spotted by the ever-so-helpful law enforcement. Dean is calling Sam, while I sit on a bench, cleaning my nails with a knife that the police missed while arresting me. Amateurs. You always check the shoes. I glance at Dean. He's making weird gestures with his hands, something he does when he gets agitated or dramatic. Right now, I'm guessing both. I look back at my knife, flipping it around in the air.

"Sam? Sam!" I nearly drop my knife at Dean's outburst. I quickly pocket it, and jog to the phone booth. Dean throws the phone down.

"What's wrong?" I ask as soon as I'm in earshot.

"I don't know. We were talking and he just hung up," he replies. "I think… I think Constance has him."

"Shit." If Constance kills him, Dean will never recover. "Okay, he was on the highway right?" Dean nods, staring into space. "Dean! Focus! Constance says something about never going home, so maybe Sam is gonna take her to their old house. What was the address?"

Dean looks up at me, eyes brightening with the hope of saving Sam. "Follow me, kiddo. We're gonna kill Casper the bitchy ghost." He takes off running down the street, presumably to steal a car or something. This is not gonna end well.

* * *

After a tense car ride in which Dean let me drive so he could load his shotgun, we pull up at the back of the house. Dean runs out before I've even stopped the car. I follow him as soon as I park, grabbing my own gun filled with salt rounds that Dean so happily loaded for me. I run after Dean to see him firing into the Impala's window. I stand next to Dean and as fire as well when Constance reappear. She disappears and I start to run to the car when Sam sits up.

"I'm taking you home." He says, and drives straight into the house. I stare dumbfounded for a second, before sprinting to the car.

"Sam! Sam! You okay?" Dean says as he pulls Sam out of the car.

"I think.."

"Can you move?"

"Yeah. Help me?" I walk forward throughout their exchange, gun cocked and at the ready. I spin once I see Constance pick up a picture frame.

"Guys?" I say, prompting Sam and Dean to look up. They both see Constance, but before they can do anything, she waves her hand and a bureau pins Sam and Dean to the car. "Hey!" I shout, before moving to cover Sam and Dean. She looks at me, and waves her hand again, causing me to fly backwards straight into a wall…

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?" I hear Sam's voice break through.

"Hey. We saved your ass Tree." I mumble sitting up against the wall.

"Sky!" Dean says before running over to me. "How you doing kiddo?" He moves his hand to examine my head, but I shrug out of his grasp before standing up.

"Where's Casper the bitchy ghost?" I say.

"Her kids killed her. Did you must call me a tree?" Sam asks, walking over from the bottom of the stairs to stand next to Dean.

"Yes. Yes I did. I gave you a nickname, that means I like you. You're welcome. Now what's this about ghost kids?"

"We'll tell you on the way back to Stanford. Sammy, or as you have dubbed him, Tree, and a law school interview, remember? And Sam. If you screwed up my car? I'll kill you." I burst out laughing, the day's events finally catching up to me. I limp to the back of the car, already imagining the nice lumpy motel bed that awaits me. As Dean pulls out of the driveway, I decide to forgo all medical advice ever given to people with possible concussions and sleep.

* * *

As the car slows, I wake up. Sam is leaning over the car, looking through the window and talking to Dean. "Call me if you find him?" Dean simply nods, obviously moody about the whole situation. "And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?"

"Yeah, all right." Dean replies. Sam pats the car twice and runs for the apartment building. I hope into the passenger seat, startling Dean.

"Sam?" I shout. He turns around. "You know, we made a hell of a team back there."

He manages a smile. "Yeah. We did."

Dean drives off, leaving Sam standing there watching us. However, instead of driving off, Dean circles the block and parks across the street from Sam's building. "Uh, Dean? What are you doing?"

"I'm just, uh, you know, making sure he's alright." Dean says, trying to downplay his familial feelings.

"Yeah. Sure. So what'd I miss while I was out?" I say, propping my feet up on the dashboard.

"We've, well, Sam figured out the coordinates Dad left for me in his journal. It points to an area called Blackwater, Colorado. I figure we make sure Sam's okay, then head there and find Dad. That's basically it, Sky. That and Sam is completely whipped about this girl of his, Jess something."

"Tree has a girlfriend? That's sweet," I say, glancing at Dean. "Holy shit."

"What?" Dean aks.

"Sam." I whisper, causing Dean to whip his head around to stare at the, now, burning building. Dean turns back to me for a second, before we both open our doors and start sprinting into the building.

"Sam!" Dean shouts as soon as we enter. "Sammy! Sammy answer me!"

"Dean!" I scream. "The bedroom!" I say, pointing to where the fire seems the worst.

He nods, and kicks the door open, all the while shouting "Sam!"

"Jess!" I hear Sam's voice. Dean enters the room, pulling Sam off the bed. I stare at the ceiling. Oh god. Jess. Dean pulls Sam through the doorway, shouting after him.

"Sky! We gotta get out of here!" I nod, still staring at Jess' body. The flames are slithering all over her, entwining her body in fiery ribbons. I shake my head and run after Sam and Dean. We all make it to the sidewalk, standing there and watching the apartment being engulfed by the ravenous flames.

The fire truck and police arrive soon after, as do the curious throngs of civilians. I'm leaning against the hood of the car, watching Dean observe the chaos. After a little while, he turns back and walks to the car. I follow Dean to the trunk, where Sam is loading a shotgun. His face is that of a broken man, desperate and angry and confused. He sighs and tosses the shotgun into the trunk. I let out a small whimper, jerking my hands back as they automatically reach for the gun to rearrange it in an orderly fashion.

"We got work to do."


	7. Nightmares and Crumpled Maps

HI! I'm beyond sorry I haven't updated. I've just been really stressed with AP Bio and school and shit and also I had the WORST case of writer's block until literally right now, at 12:00 in the morning. I have midterms in 9 hours. What am I even doing. Ok, anyway, here's the next installment of the story. I think I'm just going to write out this episode in multiple chapters like I did the pilot, and I'll shorten and even skip some episodes as the story goes. Anyway, enjoy, or not enjoy, but reviews motivate me and thank you all for following! And as for the Guest who asked when you will find out what Sky is, well hopefully in this episode if all goes according to plan. Sorry for the long AN, and please review!

* * *

"Is Sam going to be okay?" I ask, once again sitting in the back of the Impala as it seems family trumps beauty. "I mean, he saw his girlfriend literally burning in front of him."

Dean nods. "I don't know kiddo," he says, ignoring my scoff at his nickname. "I honestly don't know. But he's here, isn't he?"

"Well, yeah he's here, but he's also blowing his future away. Remember? Law school?" Dean looks confused. Sighing, I explain. "Dean, Sam was out. Sure, maybe not what you wanted, but he was happy. He had his whole life ahead of him. And now? Dean, you know hunters don't live long enough to ride off into the sunset. We die. Young," He looks extremely pissed off, opening his mouth to interject no doubt something to do with family and hunting and family business, but I continue on. "Hunting was inevitable for you and me. We were raised into it, or in my case born into it. But Sam? Dean he was free for 2 whole years. What I would give to be free for even 2 days." I mutter the last part under my breath. Unfortunately, I can't escape my curse.

Our argument is cut off by Sam jerking awake. Dean looks over at him, concerned. "You okay?" Sam just looks out the window, observing the terrain we're speeding by.

"Hey. Sam?" I reach forward and touch his shoulder. He jerks away, like I just stabbed him with a knife, or like I just killed his girlfri… okay maybe I shouldn't use that scenario.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I roll my eyes. Fine, after having a nightmare. I wish.

Dean just nods, taking his lie in stride. "Another nightmare?" Sam doesn't even respond. He doesn't need to. Dean and I both have our fair share of nightmares, not that either of us would ever admit it. Needless to say, we recognize nightmares when we see one. God knows we've woken the other up from enough of them. Sam just clears his throat and resumes looking out at the bland landscape around us. "You wanna drive for a while?"

"Wait, I'm sorry, what?" I interject, forcing a bark of strangled laughter out of Sam. "You have never, ever, in my 2 years of knowing you, _ever_, asked me to drive. You don't even let me touch your keys. And now you're going to let this gangly Tree go behind the wheel of your precious baby?" This time actual laughter comes from Sam's mouth, however short it is. Mission accomplished. Sky - 1, Dean - 0.

"Skyla's right, Dean." Sam says, sober-faced once more. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

"Just thought you might want to. Nevermind."

Sam sighs again. "Look, guys, you're worried about me. I get it, and thank you, but I'm perfectly okay."

Liar, liar, pants on fire. "Mmhmm." Whatever you say Sammy boy. When you really want to talk, make sure you shove your macho image away.

"Alright, where are we?" He continues, grabbing a map.

"We, my dear Tree, are just outside of Grand Junction." I say, passing up the correct map. Sam folds it down, revealing Colorado and the red X marks the spot I made, marking 35-111.

"You know what? Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon." And there it goes. Any chance of a nice, non-confrontational conversation has been thrown right out the window and stomped on. Oh Sammy, we were doing so well.

"Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica-" Dean says before Sam finishes his sentence.

"We gotta find Dad first." This sibling thing is freaking me out. Talking in tandem, finishing each other's sentences? Ugh. Thank God my parents only had me. Well, actually thank God, who knows what havoc more of me could wreak upon this poor, unprepared world of mortals.

"Right. With John disappearing and whatever the hell this thing is that's haunting your family showing up again after 20 years… boys I hate to say it, but where I come from, there's no such thing as coincidences," I say, snatching the map back from Sam to make sure we're on the right track. Not that I don't trust Dean, but let's just say that he has gotten us lost more than once. "John will have answers. He'll know what to do." Dean nods in agreement.

"It's weird, guys. These coordinates he left us. This Blackwater Ridge." Sam changes the conversation around, obviously not liking the fact that his father plays a role in helping to solve his girlfriend's murder.

"What about it?" Dean asks.

"Well," he makes a grabby motion with his hand, obviously wanting the map back. I shove it in his hand and lean back on the seat. Pulling the knife from my boot, I swing it around my fingers while listening to Sam's observations. "There's nothing there. It's just woods." He puts the map down, crumpling it in the process. I wince at my perfectly folded map becoming ruined. Damn him. "Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?"

Shit. College boy has a point. The car ride continues in silence as we pass a sign saying "Welcome to Lost Creek Colorado National Forest."

"Well, I guess we're about to find out."


	8. Cramping Episodes and Family Issues

After lulling back into silence broken up only by Dean occasionally humming a few bars of whatever song he was playing, we arrive at the ranger station. And that's when it hits. Shit. Sam gets out of the car, and Dean goes to get out too when I grab his shoulder. "Dean. Um-"

"What's up kiddo?" I roll my eyes, still gripping his jacket. I let go and rest my elbows on my knees.

"It's happening again," I say, staring down at my hands. There's a silence, and I start clenching and unclenching my fingers.

"Shit Sky," I scoff. Of course that's what he says. Shit. "Okay, kid, we've done this before. We know what to do."

"Yeah, but never in the middle of a hunt with your _brother_ here." I groan, resting my head in my hands.

Dean just sighs. "You know what? We'll tell him after this. But for right now, go find a motel room and stay there until it passes." He reaches into the glove box and throws a fake ID at me. "Get some rest Sky. We can manage."

I moan. "Fine. But call me if _anything_ goes wrong. _Anything_. At all. You know John will kill me if I let you die." I pick up the ID. There is my beaming face next to the name _Rosie Sanders_. I haven't been Rosie in a while. Probably because Rosie is a 23 year old vet technician who loves margaritas and flirting with boys. I lean forward, kiss the back of Dean's neck _where it's easily vulnerable to sink my teeth into and rip his throat out_, throw my leather jacket on, and practically throw myself out of the car. I take off at a slight jog, not too fast so as to avoid Sam's suspicion. Of course, he's going to be suspicious anyway.

"What-" I hear Sam's voice start to ask before I get out of earshot. No doubt Dean will say something about me being sick or it being that 'time of the month'. About a half hour passes before Dean calls. I'm just now getting into town.

"Yeah?" I ask, my voice slightly strangled. I wince. Oh god. Do I really sound that bad?

"Yeah, Sky, so we're heading over to the Collins' house. The older brother went missing with some friends up at the Ridge. It's getting late, so we're going to go out tomorrow. You good?"

"I'm fine. I'm about to get a room right now," I stop in front of the first, and probably only, motel in the town. "Just don't come back for a couple hours okay? I don't trust myself right now." If Dean or Sam came back right now I might _destroy them_ destroy the only good thing in my life at the moment.

"It's still not over? Damn," His voice takes on that 'I'm older brother Dean Winchester I must save the day and forgo all self preservation instincts I have'.

"I'll be fine. Just go out drinking or something. It's probably only going to be another 2 hours max," I enter the motel when it hits. I stagger into a wall, feeling like the wind has just been gutted out of me. Why does this happen to me now of all times?

"Miss, are you okay?" I look up through half closed eyes at the young attendant at the counter. Okay. Time to act like you aren't being ripped apart by your own stupid genetics.

"Yeah!" I say, my voice turning disgustingly sweet. "I just need to get a room with 2 singles please. My brothers and I are staying in town for like a day. Is that too much trouble?" I twirl a piece of my hair around my finger and make my way towards the desk.

"Uh, sure," the boy stammers out. He continues speaking, but I don't hear him. I'm too focused on not _lunging across the counter and ripping his heart out_ doing something I might regret like _making him jump off the roof with a flash of my eyes and a song in my heart_ hurting his feelings. "That'll be $26." I jolt back to awareness at that. I nod, and pull money out from my back pocket, desperately trying to ignore the way my hand won't stop shaking.

"Keep the change." I mutter, abandoning my alias. I grab the keys and head off in the direction of room 06. Fumbling with the keys, I stumble into the room and collapse face down on the floor. Damn it. I barely manage to pick myself up and lock the door. I text Dean the room number, when a spasm causes me to drop the phone. I hurl myself at the bed closest to the door, shove a pillow in my mouth, and let out a muffled scream. The world changes from black to blue and back to black before I pass out.

* * *

I wake up to a hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. I move to flip this ignorant person on their ass when I hear that all-too-familiar voice. "Are you about to attack me? Again? C'mon kiddo, I thought we were past this." Only one person calls me 'kiddo'. I open my eyes and crack a smile.

"Hey Dean." He's sitting on the edge of the bed, the very edge, obviously prepared to jump out of the way if I did attack him. I sigh and push myself up with one arm. "What did I miss?"

"Not much. It's not a spirit or a demon. It's, as our esteemed college professor calls it, probably corporeal. Could be a skinwalker, maybe even a black dog. But it's corporeal which means-"

"We can kill it." I interject. Oh god. The sibling thing. It's infected me. Shaking my head, I get up, stretching my aching muscles and joints. Nothing like having your own body try to rip you apart to make you sore. "Where's the tall one?"

Dean gets up, grabs my jacket from where I had haphazardly thrown it on the floor, and throws it to me. "Outside the room. I just thought that if maybe you weren't… y'know… done with your thingy," He looks away, as do I. My 'thingy'. What a way to put my simple biology. "Anyway, kiddo, I just thought that Sam finding out like that wouldn't be the best way to deal with your thingy. So now we're just waiting on you." I slip my jacket on. Dean's right, of course. Sam finding out about me during one of my episodes would undoubtedly end with someone dead. Probably me. Not that that would do much.

"Then let's go." I say, jumping up and walking to the door. I open it to find Sam looking bored out of his mind staring at the disgustingly yellow patterned wallpaper. "Hey," I say awkwardly, causing him to turn around. "Sorry for this."

"You alright?" Sam replies. He genuinely looks concerned, which is some of the most emotion I've seen out of him in the last few days.

"Yeah. Just, uh, cramps." Cramps. Throughout my whole body. Cramps that make me wish I was never born. Y'know. Cramps. Sam nods, but he doesn't truly understand the pain that comes with being me. "Shall we?" I push past him and make my way out of the ugly motel to the parking lot, quickly locating the Impala among all the other dirty cars.

Dean and Sam catch up, Dean opening up the trunk and weapons box, propping it open with a shotgun. I was gone for an afternoon and already it was disorganized. He grabs a duffel bag and throws some guns in. Sam sparks another conversation. "We cannot let that Haley girl go out there."

"Haley who?" I ask, leaning against the Impala.

"Oh yeah? What are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?" Dean shoots back.

"Yeah." Sam replies.

"Haley who?" I ask again standing between the two stubborn idiots. I stare at Dean, and then at Sam. Sam looks away, obviously not willing to answer my question. I turn to Dean again, trusting him to actually respond to my question.

"Her brother is one of the missing," Dean explains to me. "Her brother's missing, Sam," And just like that I'm forgotten.. "She's not gonna just sit this out. Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend." Dean picks up the duffel and steps away.

"Find Dad's not enough?" Sam throws out a jab, slamming the weapons box and trunk shut. "Now we gotta babysit too?" Dean and I just stare at Sam. From everything I'd heard about Sam from John and Dean, I was under the impression that he was the kind, sensitive one. I would expect that comment from John, or on his bad days, Dean. But not the smart, sweet rebellious Sam.

"What?" Sam half-shouts.

"Nothing." Dean answers. He throws the duffel bag at Sam and walks off. I stare after Dean, sensing that he would rather be alone at the moment. I hear Sam scoff. I turn to him, allowing my gaze to cut him.

"What?" Sam repeats.

I open my mouth to respond, but I know that anything I say will only start an argument. "Y'know what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm still cramping, so I'm going to go back to the room and sleep." I start to move away when Sam grabs my arm. I maneuver my way out of his grasp and adopt a fighting stance. I quickly relax my stance as Sam continues to stare at me.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks.

I soften my eyes. "Yeah. I'm just gonna get some shut eye before tomorrow. Goodnight Sam. Make sure Dean comes back alive, because I've spent a lot of time making sure he survives and I don't want for all that time to be wasted because he got hit by a car crossing the road." With that, I walk back to the motel. I turn back halfway there, about to ask Sam to be careful himself, when I see he has taken off to talk to Dean. I smile. Well, at least they're going to talk. I hope. God, I am getting way into this whole family thing. I swear to God, these boys are going to ruin me.


	9. We're All Screwed

After an extremely unrestful night of not-sleeping, the boys and I got into the Impala and drove to the forest, where we saw a man, a boy, and a girl. "Is this that Haley person you guys were telling me about?"

"And her little brother, Ben." Dean responds, parking the car. I nod, and we all get out. As I grab the duffel bag, Dean shouts out, "You guys got room for three more?" I sigh. Why can't he just make friends the normal way?

"Wait you want to come with us?" The girl, Haley, asks. Well duh princess.

"Who are these guys?" The man asks.

"Apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue." Haley responds. Well, more like the kill and rescue. And the rescuing part is a bit vague. I mean, we'll try, but these cases don't usually have the best success rate for victims being alive. Sam, seemingly having embraced his emo and moody self, heads past everyone.

"You're rangers?" The man asks again. So many questions, so little time. He looks directly at me. I look down. Leggings, combat boots, t-shirt, and a leather jacket. Okay. Maybe I don't look the part.

"That's right. And she's our probie." Dean says. I do the "bro-nod", hoisting the duffel bag over my shoulder and walking towards the group venturing into the forest and towards their certain deaths.

"And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?" Haley asks, quirking her eyebrows at Dean and mine's outfits. Dean repeats my actions from a minute ago.

"Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts." Dean says back. I stifle a snort. Once in awhile, he does have some pretty good one-liners. Dean and I head past Haley, turning around when the man speaks up again.

"What, you think this is funny? It's dangerous back country out there. Her brother might be hurt." The man seems intent on pissing me off. This will not be a fun trip.

"Believe me, we know how dangerous it can be. We just wanna help them find their brother, that's all." I spit back, spinning on my heel to walk past Sam. Dean shrugs behind me, and turns to follow.

* * *

About half an hour later, we somehow find ourselves in a weird group line thingy, with the man, Roy, in the lead, then Dean, Haley, myself, Ben, and Sam bringing up the rear. And in usual Dean fashion, he is doing everything he possibly can to piss everyone off. "Roy, you said you did a little hunting."

Roy responds, although it is clear that Dean's questions are being to irritate him. "Yeah, more than a little."

Dean dismisses Roy's claim. "Uh-huh. What kind of furry critters do you hunt?"

"Mostly buck, sometimes bear." Oh god. The worst he's faced is a bear? I mean, bears are scary, but I can guarantee that everything I've faced is scarier than a bear. Dean pushes past Roy.

"Tell me, uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?" I'm going to strangle him.

"Dean!" I hiss, moving past Haley to get closer to Dean. Roy grabs Dean arm. I stop, placing a hand on my hip, where my knife rests hidden. I glance back at Sam, who stands there, looking on. Great. I'm going to have to be the one to protect Dean's ass. Like I've been doing for so long.

"Whatcha doing, Roy?" Dean asks, meeting my eyes. I nod, ready to do whatever I need to. Dean switches his gaze back to Roy, instantly turning back into the asshole he pretends to be.

Roy grabs a stick, and stabs it into the ground. A bear trap springs up, Dean giving a imperceptible flinch at the suddenness of the action. Haley, I see, merely looks annoyed. Well so am I, Haley, so am I. "You should watch where you're stepping, Ranger." Roy lets go of the stick and takes the lead once more.

Dean watches him go, then turns back to me again. "It's a bear trap." I scoff, grabbing his arm and pulling him along to follow Roy again. As much as this guy pisses me off, civilians dying on my watch doesn't make me feel all warm and cuddly inside.

"I think he knows we're not rangers anymore." Dean mutters to me. I side-eye him.

"Dude. I don't think he ever thought we were rangers." I say. I'm about to continue, when Haley catches up to us.

"Hey! You didn't pack any provisions. You guys are carrying a _duffel_ bag. You're not rangers." She grabs Dean's arm. "So who the hell are you?"

Ben walks past us, Sam following him only to stop when he sees us. Dean indicates that Sam should go on, and Sam obeys. I watch him go, before turning to see Dean. Dean meets my eyes, and just like that, I've decided. I'm not going to let him do this alone.

"Sam and I are brothers, Sky here's our little sister. We're looking for our father. He might be here, we don't know. I just figured that you and me, we're in the same boat." I reach out for Dean's hand and give his fingers a squeeze. He looks down at me, his expression soft.

"Why didn't you just tell me that from the start?" And the moment is ruined. I sigh, and disentangle my fingers from Dean's. I nudge him forward, and he goes after Sam.

"Look, Haley," I say, running my fingers through my hair and pulling it back into a ponytail. "I know we should've been honest from the get-go. But we're telling you the truth now. Besides, that's probably the most honest Dean's ever been with a woman...ever. And we really do need to find thei - _our_ dad. So are we okay?"

Haley looks at me for a moment, then nods. "Yeah, okay."

"And what do you mean we didn't pack provisions?" I point at Dean, who is happily munching on a bag of peanut M&amp;Ms that he had shoved into the duffel at the motel. Smirking, I walk to meet him, Haley following behind me.

* * *

After yet more walking, Roy stops. "This is it. Blackwater Ridge." Finally. I thought my legs were going to fall off, and then where would we be. With two hunters, three civilians, and one ex-killing machine whose legs didn't work anymore.

"What coordinates are we at?" Sam asks. He's probably thinking about John and his journal. God, I hope he's okay.

Roy pulls out a GPS. "Thirty-five and minus one-eleven." Fantastic.

Dean and I both walk up to Sam. "You hear that?" Dean asks.

"Yeah. Not even crickets."

"What is this thing?" I mutter.

"I'm going to take a look around." I turn at Roy's voice. This idiot is going to get himself killed.

"You shouldn't go off by yourself." Sam warns, in a totally not creepy and convincing manner.

"That's sweet. Don't worry about me." Roy says, waving his gun and pushing between us to retake the lead.

"Are you sure we have to keep them all alive?" I mumble. Dean hears me, and I see him hide a smirk. Sam also hears me, and is giving me his best disapproving look. "Oh c'mon, he's annoying!"

Dean turns back to Haley and Ben. "All right, everybody stays together. Let's go."

Oh yeah. We're all gonna die.

* * *

After walking for far too long, we are finally find the campsite where Haley's brother and his friends supposedly stayed at. It's not a pretty sight.

"Oh my God. The tents are torn open and bloody and all the supplies are scattered." Yes, thank you Haley, for repeating things we can clearly see with our own eyes.

"Looks like a grizzly." Roy states. I don't know how many grizzlies he's seen but they most certainly do not look this… unnatural.

Haley starts to look around, shouting for her brother. "Tommy? Tommy!" If she attracts the thing here I'm going to kill her myself. Luckily, Sam intervenes from my almost murder.

"Shh. Something might still be out there." Okay, that once again sounds creepy and weird.

"Sam! Sky!" I go to Dean, crouching next to him. Sam looms behind us, his tall figure making the forest floor even darker. "The bodies were dragged from the campsite. But here, the tracks just vanish. That's weird." Dean and I stand.

"I'll tell you what, that's no skinwalker or black dog." I say. We all turn and walk back to the campsite. Haley picks up a bloody cell phone, and starts to cry. Ugh. I glance at Dean and - yup there he goes. Big brother/hero mode activated. I watch as he crouches down next to her, undoubtedly giving words that he thinks are comforting.

"Help! Help!" A voice calls out from out of sight. Roy runs toward the direction of the noise, the rest of us not far behind. "Help! Somebody!" We arrive where the sound came from. There's nothing here. Oh shit.

"It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?" Haley asks. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. For one moment, it is quiet. The forest is calm. The only sounds I can make out is the hitching breathing of our group.

"Everybody, back to camp." Sam announces, spurring us all into action. When we get back to the campsite, all of the supplies are missing. Even my duffel bag. Shit! At least I still have my knives. And I know Dean is packing.

"Our packs!" Haley says.

"So much for my GPS and my satellite phone." Well sorry Roy, but those couldn't help us anyway.

"What the hell is going on?" Haley demands, hysteria creeping into her voice.

"It's smart. It wants to cut us off so we can't call for help." Sam interjects. I hate to say it, but he's right. Whatever this thing is, it is definitely smart enough to know a threat when it sees one. Or a weakness.

"You mean someone. Some nutjob out there just stole all our gear." Roy says, giving Sam a weird look. Sam ignores him and goes to Dean, pulling him aside to talk in private. I sigh, and begin to make my way over to them. Can't have a family meeting without the homicidal sister, right?

I walk over as Sam is flipping through John's journal. "All right, check that out." I move to stand next to Dean, following Sam's finger to a drawing of a stick figure. Scanning the rest of the page, I put the pieces together. Wendigo.

"Oh come one, wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or, or northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far west." Dean's voice, though tinged with skepticism, sounds slightly fearful.

"Think about it, Dean, the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice." Sam insists.

"I agree with college boy," I say, the boys turning to me. "But we have a small problem. How do we kill it? Your guns are useless. And unless I can get close enough with my knives… we're screwed."

"Shit."

Sam gives Dean the journal and heads past us, stopping for a moment. "We gotta get these people to safety." He walks on.

"What the - of course we do what kind of dramatic shit was that?" I mutter. Dean just hits me with the journal, but I see him smile as he follows Sam.

Sam is addressing the group back at the campsite. "All right, listen up, it's time to go. Things have gotten… more complicated." Wow, great job Sam! I'm sure they'll totally take your convincingly vague statement and leave!

"What?" Haley asks. She seems about as done with this bullshit as I am.

"Kid, don't worry. Whatever's out there, I think I can handle it." I snort, and Roy shoots a glare my way.

"It's not me I'm worried about. If you shoot this thing, you're just gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now." Sam, either tell them it's supernatural or not, but vague statements will get us nowhere with these people.

"One, you're talking nonsense. Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders." Roy spits back, gripping his gun tightly.

"Relax." Dean tries to interject, but Roy and Sam seem intent on fighting.

"We never should have let you come out here in the first place, all right? I'm trying to protect you." Sam is getting frustrated, and even though I haven't known him for very long, even I know that this is a bad thing.

Roy somehow misses all of the social cues Sam is exhibiting and steps right into his space. Shit. "You protect me? I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight." Fuck! I don't know who's going to kill Roy first, the wendigo or Sam.

I try to intervene. "Roy, this thing? It's a damn near perfect hunter. It's smarter than you, it's smarter than all of us, and it's going to hunt you down and eat us all alive unless we get your stupid sorry ass out of here. And for the record?" I lean into his space. "My mommy left me in an alley to die. No goodnight kisses for me." His face slightly pales at that, but there is still fire left in his eyes.

"You know you're crazy, right?"

Sam, incensed, pushes past me and back into Roy's space. "Yeah? You ever hunt a wend-" He's cut off as Dean pushes him backwards.

"Chill out." Dean almost growls, his hands on Sam's chest, trying to keep the two fighting men apart.

"Stop it. Everybody just stop. Look. Tommy might still be alive. And I'm not leaving here without him." Haley half-screams at us. Her brother, Ben, who was silent up until now, moves to stand next to her in support. There's a long pause. Sam has calmed down, and so has Roy. No one seems to know what to say.

Dean, as always, breaks the silence. "It's getting late. This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves."

No one responds, until Haley asks in a quivering voice, "How?"

Good question, Haley. Good question.


	10. Dean Should've Been a Psychologist

After some work, we had constructed a campfire, and Dean and I had started to draw the Anasazi symbols into the dirt. Sam was at the edge of the campsite, staring into the dark forest. "One more time, that's -" Haley starts to ask, yet again. Thankfully, Dean cuts her off.  
"Anasazi symbols. It's for protection. The wendigo can't cross over them."  
"Thank God for that." I mutter. The wendigo would slaughter all of us in our sleep, and I'd wake up to the most important person in my life dead or half-eaten. I truly don't need more nightmares.  
Roy starts laughing, like the ignorant asshole he is. His gun is over his shoulder, as if that would do anything to stop the wendigo. Sometimes, I forget just how much I hate old white men who think they know more than me. "Nobody likes a skeptic, Ron." I sing-song back to him.  
"It's Roy." He snaps back.  
"Oh is it? I guess I didn't care enough about you to learn it. My bad." I finish drawing my last symbol and move to go sit with Sam, leaving Roy sputtering behind me. Dean follows me, snickering all the way. I plop myself down to Sam, and Dean leans against a tree, analyzing his brother. I still think Dean should have been a psychologist, or a motivational speech. He gives great inspirational pep talks. Then again, I can't picture Dean without a weapon in his hand and a scowl on his face.  
"You wanna tell us what's going on in that freaky head of yours?" I take it back. He shouldn't be a psychologist.  
"Dean -" Sam begins to speak, undoubtedly about to say he's okay or he's fine or some other bullshit like that.  
"No, you're not fine. You're like a powder keg, man, it's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?" There's a pause. I get the feeling that they have forgotten that I am here. I sit quietly, not ready to get dragged into another fight.  
"Dad's not here. I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign, right?" Sam's right. But I have a theory about this.  
Dean glances at me. That's my cue. Fantastic. "You're probably right," Sam turns to me. "To tell you the truth, I don't think John's ever been to Lost Creek."  
Sam looks at me, then to Dean. He's irritated to say the least. "Then let's get these people back to town and let's hit the road. Go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even here?" Wow. Cold-hearted much? I thought Sam was supposed to be the cute and sweet and caring one. Although, his girlfriend was just brutally murdered in front of him.  
"This is why." Dean moves in front of Sam, holding up John's journal. I retract my previous statement. Dean should be a motivational speaker. I can feel it. He's gonna say something inspirational. I'm ready. "This book. This is Dad's single most valuable possession - everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. And he's passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off, all three of us. You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business." He locks eyes with me as he says the last part. Family. I've never been a part of a real family. And Dean and John just accepted me into theirs, even knowing what I am and what I can do. God, I love them.  
Sam shakes his head, ruining my moment. "That makes no sense. Why doesn't he just - call us? Why doesn't he - tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?"  
"He's John." I say. Sam shoots me a look, but I'm not wrong. John is as John does. He doesn't have a real definitive reason for half the shit he pulls.  
"I dunno. But the way I see it, Dad's giving us a job to do, and I intend to do it." Dean says.  
"Dean… no." Sam seems really stuck on this. "I gotta find Dad. I gotta find Jessica's killer. It's the only thing I can think about." While not healthy, that is relatable. I need to find my father too. So I can kill him, but the motivation is almost the same here.  
Dean sighs. His motivational speeches are not done yet. "Okay, all right, Sam, we'll find them, I promise. Listen to me. You've gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while, and all that anger, you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you." He glances at me when he says that. Dean has a bizarre theory that if I used my "powers" more, my episodes wouldn't be so bad. I think he's insane and I could go on a killing spree. We agree to disagree. "You gotta have patience, man."  
Sam looks down, and then back up at Dean. "How do you do it? How does Dad do it?" Am I chopped liver again? I do it too. Dean, the master of self-sacrifice and inspirational talks, looks over at Haley and Ben sitting around the fire. "Well, for one, them." Sam and I look over too. "I mean, I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little more bearable."  
There's a pause. "I'll tell you what else helps," I interject. I can be motivational too. Sam and Dean turn to look at me. I smirk. "Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can." Sam cracks a smile. Sky - 2, Dean - 0. I love winning.  
"Help me! Please!" An unknown voice screams out. In an instant, we all stand up, me unsheathing my knife and Dean readying his gun. "Help!" Sam shines the flashlight into the woods, but we can't see anything. Shit.  
"He's trying to draw us out. Just stay cool, stay put." Dean calls back to the group by the campfire.  
"Inside the magic circle?" Roy shoots back.  
"Not helpful, Roy!" I shout.  
"Help! Help me!" We're all silent. Then, a growling sound emerges from the trees, then the bushes, from all around us. I'm suddenly so very grateful we drew those Anasazi symbols before it was too late.  
"Okay, that's no grizzly." Well no shit, Roy. What have we been telling you this whole time?  
Haley mutters something to her brother, before she shrieks as something rushes past. I fucking hate wendigos. "It's here." Thank you college boy, I too love stating the obvious when in terrible danger.  
Roy stupidly shoots at the rustling twice. Because that's helpful. "I hit it!" He runs out of the circle. That arrogant idiot!  
"Roy, no! Roy!" Dean shouts. He turns to Haley and Ben. "Don't move." Haley nods, holding a stick with some fire at the end, presumably as a weapon of some sorts. Dean and I nod, and we run after Roy, Sam not far behind.  
"It's over here! It's in the tree!" Roy calls out. We find him just as the wendigo reaches down from the tree and snaps his neck.  
"Roy!" Dean shouts. Sam is shining the flashlight around.  
"Guys, we gotta go now!" I spit, grabbing the back of Dean's jacket and shoving Sam back into the circle. I'm not losing these boys.

After an extremely restless night, we all wake up alive. Except Roy, that is. I didn't like him, but I wouldn't wish him dead either. Sam is sitting against a hollow tree stump, holding John's journal. Dean is with Haley and Ben among the tents, no doubt explaining again that the supernatural exists and it sucks ass. I walk over to them "How do you know about this stuff?" Haley asks Dean. He pauses.  
I press my hand to his back, silent support. "Kind of runs in the family." I say. It's vague but informative enough that she won't ask anymore questions. Sam comes over just then.  
"Hey. So we've got half a chance in the daylight. And I for one want to kill this evil son of a bitch."  
"Well, hell, you know I'm in." Dean responds.  
"Me too." I add, although I doubt it needed to be said. I'm always down to kill evil shit. I walk over to the duffel bag. I know exactly what we need. Sam and Dean start explaining the origin of the wendigo. It's a simple story. Man has no food, man goes slightly crazy, man eats family and friends, man gains speed, strength, immortality, and insatiable hunger. Disgusting.  
" - how do we stop it?" Haley asks as I walk back over.  
"Well, guns are useless, so are knives unfortunately. Basically," I hold up the can of lighter fluid, the beer bottle, and the white cloth I'd picked up. "We gotta torch the bitch."

After making the Molotov cocktail, we start off through the forest. There are trees marked with claw marks and blood. Something feels off, but I don't know what. Sam is leading the group, when he calls out for Dean to come forward. Once again, I'm forgotten. I sigh, and move to the front after Dean.  
"What is it?" Dean asks.  
"You know, I was thinking, those claw prints, so clear and distinct." Sam muses.  
"They were too easy to follow." I finish his thought. Oh shit. We're screwed.  
As if on cue, growling picks up as the trees begin to rustle. Wendigos are moving up my list of most hated supernatural creatures. Top 5 now, definitely. Haley leaps out of the way as Roy's corpse lands where she was standing. Great, now it's taunting us.  
Dean and I go to the body as Sam checks on Haley. "You okay? You got it?"  
I stand up. "His neck's broken."  
There's more growling. Dean yells. "Okay, run, run, run, run, go, go, go!" We take off. Ben falls, and Sam and I move to help him. As we stand Ben back up, I notice Dean and Haley kept moving. Oh crap on a stick. Nothing good ever happens when we get separated.  
Haley screams. I look at Sam, and take off running towards her scream. "Dean!" I call out, desperately hoping that what I think just happened didn't happen. I stop running when I find Dean's Molotov cocktail. The bottle is broken on the forest floor, Dean and Haley nowhere to be found. "Dean!" I scream.  
Ben and Sam round the corner. Sam stops short when he sees me holding the bottle. "Haley?" Ben calls out. Sorry kid, she's not here. I failed.  
"Dean!" Sam shouts. Fuck. Not again. Not now. 


	11. No One Diedish

I'm squatting, holding the broken weapon. Shit shit shit shit. I can't lose control. I can't afford to lose control. Last time I let _it_ loose, Dean was kidnapped too. But it was just Dean in danger, and the witches were easy to dispose of. Dean was fine. But it isn't just Dean this time, and I don't know how Sam will react. I have to try. I swallow and stand up, walking over to Sam and Ben.

"If it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy?" Ben asks.

"Honestly? I think because Roy shot at it, pissed it off." Sam responds.

We take off walking, and then I see a small red circle on the ground. I bend down and pick it up. Standing back up, I see a whole trail of these dots, differing in color. The peanut M&amp;Ms. "Holy shit." I mutter.

"What? What's wrong?" Sam comes to stand next to me. I show him the M&amp;M in my hand, and his face morphs from one of concern to one of realization.

"It's better than breadcrumbs." I say. Sam laughs, and we start to follow the trail. Sky - 3, Dean - 0. I'm amazing.

We follow the trail until we come to a mine entrance. All around it are signs with things like "Warning!" "Danger!" and the like. Sam and I look at each other, shrug, and head inside. Ben follows behind us. With each step, I'm getting closer to Dean. I can do this.

* * *

As we're walking through the mine, Sam pulls out his flashlight. He turns it on, and I squint back. I forgot that they can't see as well in the dark. As if in response to the light, growling is heard all throughout the mine. I grab the flashlight and shut it off, pulling Sam and Ben against the wall. I can hear the wendigo coming towards us. Ben opens his mouth to scream, but Sam covers it. We shouldn't have brought Ben here. But it's too late now, isn't it?

The wendigo goes another way, and so do we. The floorboards of the mine start to creak. Oh no. No thank you. Not today. We fall through the floor, some landing more gracefully than others. I stand up, only to discover that we landed in a pile of bones. Lovely.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay." Sam says. I turn around, and he's looking at Ben who is once again about to scream. That's when I see them. Dean. Hanging by his wrists from the ceiling, a little beat up, a little bruised, but very much alive.

"Dean!" I whisper-shout, rushing toward him. Sam and Ben run up behind me, but all I can see is Dean. He's alive. He's here. He's unresponsive. "Dean! Dean wake up, or I'll tell Sam all about that time in New York City." He opens his eyes. "Hey, are you okay?"

He winces. "Wait, what time in New York City?" Sam asks.

"We're not talking about that," Dean growls. "Not ever. And yeah, kiddo, I'm fine."

"Haley, Haley, wake up, wake up!" Oh yeah. Ben and Haley are here too. Oops. I send Sam over to help them, and I cut Dean down. He is barely suppressing his pained grunts as I sit him down on the floor.

"You sure you're all right?" Remember, no lying to me, because I'll know." I warn.

He looks up at me and grimaces. "Yeah. Yep. I've been better, but I've been worse. I'll be fine. Where is he?"

"He's gone for now." Sam answers. I'm still checking over Dean's body, searching for any visible injuries, but it's hard to tell over all of the dirt and grime coating his face. Dean looks at me, his eyes piercing me. He knows how close I am was to losing it. I barely contain a scoff. It's just like Dean to worry about others when he is the one who is hurt.

"Tommy…" Haley is awake, apparently, and standing up. I turn to where she's looking, and there's her brother, hanging in the same position as Dean was a second ago. And now she's crying. "Cut him down!" No we're just gonna leave him here to die. Sam cuts him down and she starts murmuring comforting things to him. All I know is Dean is now standing and moving around, which he definitely shouldn't be doing.

Dean picks up flare guns. "Check it out."

"Flare guns." Sam points out the obvious in an eloquent and short statement.

"Those'll work." I smirk, and Dean and Sam both laugh. Sky - 4, Dean - 0. Oh yeah. I'm definitely winning this game that Dean has no idea we're playing. Dean twirls the guns, and hands one off to Sam. I unsheathe the knife strapped to my belt.

"I thought you said those wouldn't work against it." Ben says from under his brother's arm. Ben and Haley have shifted to support their brother, Tom.

"I have… special talents." I say, to which Dean utters a sarcastic chuckle. Sam looks on questioningly. Shit. We still haven't told him about me. Well, I guess we'll just have to tell him afterwards.

We head down a tunnel, Dean and Sam leading with their flare guns at the ready. Tom is limping between Haley and Ben, and I bring up the rear. I still have a really bad feeling. It turns out I'm right, as growling once again fills the mine. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Looks like someone's home for supper." Dean quips.

"We'll never outrun it." Haley whispers back. Dean looks around the others, locking eyes with me.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Just like Bridgeport?" I ask.

"Yup."

"Didn't I d-, didn't I get seriously injured there?" I censor myself quickly. It's hard to remember that there's more people than Dean and I here sometimes.

"Bridgeport?" Sam questions.

Dean ignores Sam, and turns to the trio. "All right, listen to me. Stay with Sam. He's gonna get you out of here."

"What are you gonna do?" Haley asks.

I push past her to move next to Dean. He winks and starts walking away. "You go left, I go straight, Sam goes right?" I ask.

"Sounds about right. You ready?"

I smile. "Always."

As I go down the dank tunnel, possibly to my death, I smile again upon hearing Dean. "Chow time, you freaky bastard! Yeah, that's right, bring it on, baby, I taste _good_."

I walk a couple more feet before calling out myself. "Hey you stupid son of a bitch! I'm over here! Come and get me!" Don't come and get me. Let us get out of here without incident, and then I can come back and kill you without witnesses. Well, maybe Dean as some back-up. I don't know. I just want us all safe and far from here.

* * *

I turn the corner and meet a dead end. Shit. I turn back, still clutching my knife. I guess I should make my way back to Sam and the trio. As I'm walking back, I hear a flare gun go off. I start to run towards the sound. "Sam!" I hear Haley cry. Shit shit shit. Dean will kill me if anything happens to his little brother.

I round another corner, and there is Sam, hiding the trio behind his back. And between me and Sam is the ugly shithead. The wendigo. "Hey!" Without waiting for a response, I jump on its back, thrusting the knife into what looks like its shoulder blade. The wendigo snarls, and hooks a long arm around me and sends its claws right into my stomach. I'm still hanging on, when it clutches my arm and throws me off into the wall of the mine. I land with a thud, smacking my head on the wet concrete. Ow.

Distantly, I hear Sam call out for me. Everything sounds like its underwater. I can't see anything except blurry figures. A tall blurry figure is heading for me. I should get up. I should definitely get up. I try, for the record. But I slip and fall right back down. There's a wet, sticky fluid sliding down my face. My stomach is a geyser of red liquid. I'm dying. How wonderful. I can't see. There is darkness all around me, swallowing me whole.

There's a piercing scream. Oh god. I hope it's the wendigo. I hope Sam or Dean killed it. I can't believe it killed me. I don't deserve this. I deserve to die in a really cool, badass way. Not by a fucking wendigo. Shit.

I hand touches my face. It's not the wendigo, that's for sure. It's calloused yet soft. Probably Dean. I lean into the touch. At least I'm not dying alone. That's gotta be worth something, right? I sink into the black.

* * *

"Dean, I'm not freaking out, I'm just a little concerned about the dead girl we have in our backseat!" Oh fuck.

"Dude, it's gonna be fine, I promise. She'll wake up soon."

"Dean, I took her pulse. Dead. D-e-a-d. Do you have a concussion or something? She's dead! Why aren't you more upset?" Sam is officially freaking out.

"Not dead." I slur out. That was supposed to be a full coherent sentence.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Sam screams.

"Oh, c'mon Sky. Did you have to scare him like that?"

"Yes." I grunt, shifting up to my full height. I'm in the backseat, on a blanket. Sam and Dean are sitting in the front, Sam turning in his chair to face me. Dean pulls the car, which I now recognize was moving all this time, into the parking lot of a motel. "Why don't we take this conversation inside, boys?"

Dean laughs and parks the car, while Sam sputters in disbelief. "Sammy, go get the room, okay?" He eyes me. "2 beds."

There's silence for a moment, and then Sam slowly gets out of the car and enters the motel lobby. As soon as he exits, Dean bursts out laughing. "I think you scared the shit out of him! That was the funniest thing I've ever seen!" He slaps the steering wheel for emphasis.

"I try." I groan. Dean turns around to look at me, his laughter fading into concern.

"I thought you were a goner, kiddo. You were like a fucking fountain, spouting blood everywhere. What made you jump on its back?"

"Sam and the others were in danger. Did they all get out okay?"

Dean scoffs. "Of course you did. And yeah. I shot it in the stomach with the flare gun, and it's good and dead. And then I saw you, all pale and lying in a puddle of blood. I thought I had lost you."

"You'll never lose me Dean. But before this conversation becomes a _Moment_, I suggest we save the talk for the motel room, which Sam is bringing the keys back to this very minute." I say. Sam knocks on the window of Dean's door, holding up the keys, still looking extremely baffled at my continued existence. We get out of the car, although I get out extremely slowly. My muscles, especially in my stomach, are sore and painful. Healing sucks.

Sam unlocks the door, and I push past him to fall face-first on the bed closest to the door. Dean chuckles again. "Kiddo, we kinda need to explain to Sam why you're still alive." I grunt.

"Yeah, about that… what the fuck?" Sam repeats.

I sigh, and push myself up, orienting myself so that my back is against the headboard, and I'm facing Sam and Dean. Dean flops onto my bed, apparently having decided that we will share tonight. That's kind of his thing. Everytime I die and come back, we share a bed. Nothing sexual about it, god forbid. We aren't like that. He's the brother I never wanted or expected. But maybe he's the brother I needed. I don't know. I like it. He likes it. It reminds us that I'm alive and not going anywhere. It's reassuring. So yeah, we cuddle.

"Here's the deal Giraffe: I am not human." I state. Sam sits down on the second bed, stunned. I think. I don't know him that well, but I imagine that that's what his stunned face looks like. I decide to extrapolate. "My parents were… well I mean. Okay, it's hard to explain." I start to ramble.

"Her mom was a half-human, half-siren thingy, and her dad was a demon." Dean says, as though it's that simple.

"I'm sorry, what?" Sam questions.

"So, um, my mom was half-siren. And so I'm like a quarter siren or something. Sirens can't really die or something like that? That's what her breed was I think. So, yeah, immortal. And demons, well a demon was possessing my human father, and ta-da I'm here. Demons heal themselves or they can't die from physical means either, so yeah. I can't really die and I heal every time. Or we think every time. I've always come back. So we're just gonna keep going with this thing until I die for good, I guess." I finish. Shitty explanation, but in my defense, I was dead.

"Okay. But, then, why are you a hunter? And wh-?"

"No more questions please." I groan, cutting Sam off. "I'm a hunter because the demon-sperm donor killed my mom when I was 3, and foster care sucked. The supernatural world wouldn't leave me alone."

"Also she has powers." Dean interjects. "The telekinesis shit that demons supposedly have. But she suppresses them."

I whack his arm. "Of course I suppress them, I could kill someone."

"Or you could learn to control them and use them to help with hunts."

"And embrace my demon side." I counter.

"I take it you guys have had this argument a lot." Sam says. Oh right, he's still here.

"Yeah. And we're not continuing it. I'm too tired." I slip down, setting my head on a pillow. Dean moves up around me, hugging me but not really. He's just laying there. I'm here. I'm still breathing. That's all we need to know.

"Wait the suppression thing - is that what your episode was earlier? I thought you had period cramps."

"Sam! Enough questions. Yes, it was. But right now, I just came back from the dead, and I really need to sleep. Goodnight. Turn off the lights, please and thank you." I lay down fully, my head resting on a pillow and Dean's arm resting on my newly healed stomach. I close my eyes. It's been a good day. No one died for too long. Everyone lived. Minimal injuries. Good day.


End file.
